


Number 413

by Switched



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:32:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Switched/pseuds/Switched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter is a bit longer than the first, so more to read. ;D</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You slap a hand on the 'snooze' button that your unholy clock possessed, the annoying trill of the alarm cutting off mid-screech. Pushing your red covers off of your body, you slowly arise from your bed and stand up. It was Monday, the day that school began for a whole new five-day week and everyone there simply didn't give a shit until they had to do all their piling homework at the last minute.

God, you hated Mondays. 

With a sigh you drag yourself through the daily routine, taking a shower and pulling on clothes and slipping your shades on to hide your eyes and expression. After your shower, you were faster on your feet and decided that it was time to have breakfast. Because it was important, according to the world's beliefs. _You know what, screw universal beliefs. I'll skip breakfast._ The thought rolled across your head and you seemed to nod to it, approving of it's rebellious nature. You glance at your clock and swear, the clock was flashing a glaring 7:45 at you as if to scold you for getting zone out. You rolled your eyes at it and raised a shout at your brother, who was still sleeping because he didn't have to leave for work quite yet. Grabbing your school bag you dash down the stairs and ran out of the house, the door slamming shut behind you.

The air was biting cold and you realized you forgot your coat, a habit that had stayed with you from living in Texas since you were a baby. "God damn Michigan." You cursed the state often, for it seemed to eagerly rain snow and blow freezing winds ever since you had arrived there. In fact, you despised it so much that you ended up muttering a steady stream of curses all the way into the school's door, where you had to stop because a teacher just happened to walk in the moment you entered. "Hello, Mrs. Brooke. Sorry I'm late." The apology was quick and received no reaction from the Science teacher, for she had vanished into the office room. You shrug and continued rushing down the hall, flying up the stairs and proceeding to make it obvious that you had arrived "fashionably late," fighting the urge to state that it was ironic.

And not a moment too soon, your English teacher was in front of your desk, looking down at you with her hawkish eyes. "Strider, you're late. _Again._ " She gave the words plenty of venom and emphasis, but someone as cool as you couldn't be fazed by such poor attempts. Again you repeated your apology from earlier, paraphrasing the words a bit so that he didn't call her by the wrong name. She rolled her eyes in response and strutted back to the front of the classroom, where she proceeded to go on about how to write. Because apparently the class didn't know how to. 

 

Six hours later of constant droning, a brief lunch with your friends and walking around an under-sanitized school, you were finally back home.

"Hey, little bro, what do you think about getting a brother?" The question was so sudden that it put a halt to your quick remarks, making you turn the phrase over in your mind for a few seconds.

Then the speech part of your brain woke up again. "And where would you have found a place to adopt a kid in this sorry excuse of a town?"

Your guardian's lips twitched as if a smile was tugging at them. "A new adoption center opened up, and I know you've been wanting a brother so I thought we could go there Friday and meet some of the boys there."

You frown slightly, but it quickly lifted as you began to approve of the idea. "That sounds good. So, Friday then?"

He nods and allowed a small smile to play on his face, then quickly turned away and went upstairs.

Looks like you had plans for this week.


	2. Number 413

The days leading up to the much-anticipated Friday had seemed to move slower than the earth that rotated, but eventually you found yourself inside the Adoption Center beside your bro. He was talking to the check-in lady, the conversation drifting throughout the waiting room despite the low tones. You sigh and tuck your hands into your jean pockets, quickly growing bored as they spoke of adult things. After an hour or so, the lady stood up.

"Follow me, Mr. Strider."

You fell into step after your brother, following him and the lady through a door and into a hallway that led into a spacious room. In the room were a group of kids, shouting and running around like kids do. They were young, still toddlers. _This place is actually really nice. I thought it was going to be a jail or something._ You chuckle at the thought and let your eyes drift over the children, faintly amused by their antics. As you scan the room your gaze is pulled away from the center, drawn to a young boy sitting in the corner, hunched over a notepad. "Hey, bro, who's that?" You nudge your brother's shoulder and gesture towards the boy in the corner.

He follows the direction your finger is pointing and you watch his face as his brows furrow. "I was looking at the little cop girl... but maybe we should set up some meetings with that little boy." He directs his statement towards you in a low voice before informing the woman of your decision. 

The lady glanced towards the corner and nods, turning around slightly to pull him over. "413, come over here please." He looked up from his notepad and stood up, slowly making his way towards the three of you. As he got closer you saw that he looked different from a normal toddler, his skin a pale grey and his hair pitch black. You also noticed that his eyes were yellow, the pupils grey. Around his neck was a black collar, a silver number stitched to it: _413_

You frown slightly at the number, wondering why it seemed to scream at you like _HEY ASSHOLE?_ Faded flashbacks played at the edges of your mind, but the memories were jumbled besides a few fleeting pictures of a small, angry troll. You grasp at the images and try to hold them down, but they wash away from your mind's eye before you could compare them to the child that was now standing beside the check-in lady, gazing at you with curious eyes. He was hugging his notepad with a gentle grip, his gaze dropping down to the pages every so often.

"How many meetings will we get with...413?" 

"Five, and then he will have two weeks to decide if he wants to live with you."

"Sounds good. So is there anything else we need to set up before things set into motion?"

"Not really. We've done a background check and we've already searched your home Wednesday."

The conversation faded into the background noise as you lowered yourself into a crouch, extending a hand towards the boy. "Hey, little bro." He looks at you with further curiosity for a few moments before the expression in his eyes gave way to hesitant excitement. He scribbles something on his notebook and turned it towards you, the page mostly blank except for a few hastily written sentences.

_Who are they?_  
 _I doubt they'll see me. They never do._  
 _Hi._

You take in the sentences and smiled at the boy, paying little heed to the middle line. "I'm Dave, by the way." 

Again he scribbles something on his notepad and turns it towards you. _I don't need your name, just a title._

"Then..call me Strider." You offer your last name to him, unable to bring yourself to asking any questions just yet.

He hesitates, his pencil hovering above the notepad for a few seconds before he began to write again. _Strider, huh? I'd tell you what to call me but I guess you already know that._

"Don't you have a name?"

The question came in a half-blurt.

Something flashes across his face and he jumped, as if he wanted to run. _If I did, that air horn-sounding lady would have said so._

You chuckle at his response despite yourself, finding that you agreed with his opinion of the check-in lady's voice. "I suppose she would have, but then again. Some people are just assholes, no matter how air horn-pitched their voices are."

He chuckled at that, but the sound, you noticed, was garbled and varied in pitch. _I think I'm going to like you, Strider._

A grin split your face. "Let's hope for the best, then."

_Yeah. Let's do that._

\---  
Later that week you found yourself going through school again, the days not all that much different except the decline in homework. You were grateful for that; it meant that you had more time to finish your music projects. Mixing music was an obvious hobby of yours, from your Pesterchum handle to your room that was packed with the needed equipment. Sometimes you got so involved with your work that you found yourself spinning around on a giant record disc. Whenever you thought about the dreamworld you were always struck with a vague realization: you knew the place. In fact, that said realization was striking you now.

But it was short lived. Your brother's voice cut through the vision of the disc and brought you back to reality.

"It's time to go!"

"I'll be down!" The shout left your lips as you sprung up from your bed, pushing open the door and running down the stairs. You flashstep the rest of the way, making sure to grab your coat so you didn't freeze to death in the falling snow. Sliding into the front seat of your brother's car, you pull the seat belt across your chest. "So we're going to go meet the little bro today?"

"Yep. I was thinking we could take him to the park or something." He pulled into the hazardous parking lot of the Adoption Center and shifted the car into park, yanking the key out of the ignition.

"They're letting us take him somewhere?" You ask, surprised at the bit of news. _I thought they didn't let you take the kids places._

"I guess they deemed us safe enough to take him around town."

You snort in amusement; how could anyone deem Bro's background safe? "Shocking."

He grins at you and pushes your shoulder while using one hand to open the door that led into the lobby, where 413 sat waiting on one of the couch armchairs.

The boy slides down from the couch and bounds towards you, a small smile on his features. He held his notepad out in front of him, raising it above his head so that the two of you could read it.

_Hey! So where are we going?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than the first, so more to read. ;D

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! I'm just getting used to writing, so they might stay a bit short. I'll try and make the next chapter be longer.


End file.
